


I'll Be Back, Give it Time

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguing, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: “I couldn’t stay there, Dean.” You tell him and his face falls. “I couldn’t stay there when I feel–” You stop, the fight draining out of you. “Not when I feel the way I do.” You croak, “I just need some time.”“You need time to– to what?” Dean asks, his voice sounding desperate.“To get over you.” You whisper.You could have heard a pin drop. You’re sure that this is it. He’s going to start feeling all self-loathing, and blame himself for driving you away, even though all of this is entirely your own fault.“I don’t want you to.” He says suddenly, and you feel your throat tighten. He can’t be saying what you think he is, because then all that heartache you felt a month ago when he rejected you would have been for nothing.





	I'll Be Back, Give it Time

When there’s a knock on your motel door late at night, you already know who it is. You’ve been– well, you’ve been avoiding him, you guess. It’s not a big deal, just… you might have bailed after your last hunt together.

You needed to get some space. It’s a lot, being around Dean all the time when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t have the same feelings for you. He let you down easy, that’s true. He doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body, not where you’re concerned, and you like him too much to do the whole goodbye thing while you try to deal with your own lingering feelings. So you just left. Told Sam you had another job to get to and not to bother waking Dean, and you were gone.

He’s pissed. 

You look down at your phone at the four unanswered texts that you’ve received over the last month, and you wince, thinking that you were doing what you always told yourself you wouldn’t do - make it weird.

“If you don’t open the door right now, I’m going to break it down.” Dean threatens, and you sigh, standing up and heading towards the door.

“Calm down.” You mutter, and when you open it, he just sort of stares at you. He’s a little disheveled - fed suit on, sleeves rolled up haphazardly and hair sticking up at odd angles like he’s been running his fingers through it. 

His eyes are dark as he looks at you, and there’s stubble on his jaw that’s got to be a few days old. You move to one side of the doorway so he can storm in after you, and you shut the door solidly, taking a deep breath before you turn around to face him. 

His hands are on his hips as he paces, and– you have to stop for a second, because does he realize how _hot_ he is? 

“Do you wanna tell me why I had to track your fuckin’ _phone_ to figure out where you were?” He asks, his voice low and angry. 

“Dean–”

“We had no idea where you were. No clue where you were, or if you were hurt, or what happened to you.” 

“Sam knew that I left for a hunt.” You say, and when he opens his mouth, you keep going. “I had to leave, and didn’t want to bother you. I’ve been hunting. I’ve been _fine_ –”

“Why didn’t you call, then?” He asks, eyes burning. “Or text me back? I mean– _Jesus_ , kid. I know I sound like a fifteen year old, but shit. We could have helped you.” 

“I didn’t need any help.” You say, starting to get angry. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed–” Dean shifts his weight, his eyes going wide at your tone, “–but I’ve been doing just fine!” 

He sits on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted. “Did– Did you leave because of me?” 

“I left because of a hunt.” You say, gritting your teeth. 

“Don’t–” He stops himself, working to lower his voice. “Don’t lie to me. Please.” 

“What was I supposed to do?!” You almost shriek, watching as his gaze snaps to yours at your distressed tone. You know you shouldn’t do this – you shouldn’t make him feel bad about something that isn’t his fault, but you can’t help it. “I couldn’t stay there, Dean.” You tell him and his face falls. “I couldn’t stay there when I feel–” You stop, the fight draining out of you. “Not when I feel the way I do.” You croak, “I just need some time.”

“You need time to– to _what_?” Dean asks, his voice sounding desperate. 

“To get over you.” You whisper. 

You could have heard a pin drop. You’re sure that this is it. He’s going to start feeling all self-loathing, and blame himself for driving you away, even though all of this is entirely your own fault. 

“I don’t want you to.” He says suddenly, and you feel your throat tighten. He can’t be saying what you think he is, because then all that heartache you felt a month ago when he rejected you would have been for nothing. 

“I don’t under–”

“I don’t want you to get over me.” He says, stronger this time, and he stands, his hands out in a placating gesture. 

“You– you said–” You stutter, shaking your head. “You _told me_ you didn’t have feelings for me. You said you were _sorry_ –”

“Kid, just hear me out.” 

“You don’t get to do this.” You tell him. “I’m trying–” you take a deep breath, “You hurt me, Dean, and it’s not your fault, but I’m trying to deal with it, but I can’t do that if I’m around you. That’s why I left. And now you don’t want me to figure this out?” 

“I was wrong, okay?” He says, taking a step towards you. “I was wrong, but I didn’t realize it until you–” He tugs at his tie absentmindedly. “You were _gone_. I thought you were hurt or worse, and I couldn’t– I was _wrong_ , kid, about all of it.” 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. He’s staring at you again and you can see behind the simmering anger that there’s panic in his eyes. He’s afraid. Of what, you’re not sure. All you can see is him looking at you like whatever you say next has the power to make him or break him. It makes up your mind for you.

“Fuck it.” You mutter, and then you take three large steps towards him, your hands framing his face as you capture his lips with yours. His hands hover at your sides, and he’s sort of frozen at first, but then he snaps into action, his arms sliding around your waist, his hands gentle as they touch you. 

His mouth moves with yours eventually, and he lets out a sort of strangled sound as he seems to come to a decision, hauling you up against him tight and his tongue sweeping through your mouth. 

Your body feels like it’s on fire and eventually you break away to catch your breath, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m sorry.” You tell him. “I didn’t want to leave.”

“It’s my fault. You scare the hell out of me, kid.” He says, his dark as he looks at you. “The things I feel for you… I can’t remember ever feeling like this. I thought if I just pushed it away it would stop. But then you left, and I… I freaked out.” 

“Look… whatever happens, you and Sam are my best friends. That’s not going to change. We’ve been through too much shit to be pushed apart. But I want to have this, with you. I want to try.” 

.

.

Later, after you’ve managed to separate for a few minutes, you go to the bathroom to change into your pajamas, and when you come back out, Dean looks up and has the softest look on his face. He looks exhausted, and you wonder briefly if he’s slept at all lately. 

“You still have clothes on.”

“Trying to get me naked already?”

You give him a _look_. “You need to go to sleep. Are you going to sleep in your suit?”

“Nah.” He reaches for you, tugging you closer until you’re standing between his legs, his fingers skimming your thighs that are exposed by your sleep shorts. “Just too lazy to get up.”

“Go.” You prod him gently, pulling him to his feet. 

He towers over you when you’re standing this close, and you shiver as his large hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones delicately. “Be right back.” He murmurs, and you sigh when he leaves, not sure how you’re going to make it through this night. 

When he comes back out, he’s just in a t-shirt and his boxers, and you try not to stare as he walks towards you. “Now you’re the one that looks tired, sweetheart.” He says gently, hand brushing your shoulder as he walks by to put his dress shirt on a hanger. 

“Come help me sleep, then.” You say, and he looks at you, surprised. “I wasn’t going to make you sleep on the floor.” 

He grins at you, and after you’re both settled, your legs tangled together and his hand making large sweeping motions on your back, he whispers, “I’m sorry I hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted.” 

“It’s fine, Dean.” You say. “We’ll fix it.” 

“Yeah.” He says, almost slurring his words as his exhaustion takes over. “We’ll fix it.” 


End file.
